


By Morning Light {ON HIATUS}

by AstrilCleric



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, Hayseed Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8526517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstrilCleric/pseuds/AstrilCleric
Summary: Mako Rutledge is a lone wolf, and a farmer who's crops and livestock have been attacked and stolen recently. Turning to old methods, he buys a scarecrow from a shady merchant in town, only to later discover that it wasn't just any scarecrow that he's purchased.





	1. Little Out of the Ordinary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap_Chameleon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Chameleon/gifts).



> So it's about time I posted this. I wanted to finish the first chapter in time for Halloween but better late than never, right?

Dawn was always a peaceful time. Quiet, cool, the sun making dew sparkle. Everything felt tranquil and calm. It was rare for Mako to be up so early and he wanted to revel in the glow. So, with a cup of piping hot coffee in hand, he sat in the rocking chair that was in the back porch of his house.

The chair hadn't moved in years, perhaps a decade even. It belonged to his parents. Before that it was his grandfather's chair, where he'd sit and tell stories of his life that were so unreal to an adolescent Mako and his siblings. Stories that inspired and awed him as a child, but now, a man almost 50 years old, he knew that they were just an old man's prattling. Now he was the only one left, and he was the old man in the rocking chair.

The sun peeked over the mountains in the far distance, and would cast a beautiful glow over the land each morning. His farm became more visible, and the wild animals began to wake from slumber. Small animals like rabbits and squirrels ran around to find food, and then disappear into the hedges and bushes, bird whisked around, eating food from the several feeders around the farm.

Once his cup was empty and he was warmed and ready to start the day, Mako stood up and went back inside his house. He started on breakfast, preparing pancakes with scrambled eggs. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down to eat. With the sun rising higher, it twinkled through his window and shone across his face, occasionally blinding his eyes. He ate quickly as he always did, washed his dishes off, and then set out to the farm.

He went to the barn just a little ways from the house where he kept the pigs. They started to oink and made noise as soon as he entered; a greeting of sorts. A small crooked half-grin tugged at his lips. The pigs all he had left. He never sold or butchered them, and they were more like farm pets than anything. He never really wanted to be a farmer, but it ran in his family and before he could do anything with his own life, he inherited a farm with tons of animals. He took care of them until each one died, and each time he felt happy — he was one step closer to being free of this farm, free of his family "legacy." However, in the past few years, his solitude led him to really care for his final few pigs.

As he fed the pigs, he noticed that something was off. Some of the pigs were acting a bit finicky, scared even, and that's when he noticed it — one of them was missing. He counted five pigs. One of the piglets was gone. A baby, born only a month or so ago. He glanced around the barn, wondering if the piglet just hadn't come out yet, but he saw that the back door of the barn was open slightly, which was odd, and definitely not a good sign; the door had a latch on the outside and he always latched it. _Always_.

Curious, he cautiously stepped toward the back of the barn, and as he got closer to the door, he saw red staining the ground right outside. He followed a trail of blood around the corner of the barn and his expression dropped from concerned to sad. The piglet was there, pushed up against the side of the barn, meat ripped from its ribs.

Mako stared for a few moments before returning to the barn. He grabbed a shovel, went back to the deceased piglet. He picked it up in his arms and cradled it with care, and carried it to the edge of his farm to bury it. He set a few rocks out to mark the grave, and even gave a moment of silence for the animal. He couldn't grieve for too long, though, as there were other things to do, and such was life.

He started by walking passed some of the corn stalks he had growing, and noticed that some were bent and broken, several with missing corn. He glanced around and noticed that many other crops were missing as well. He didn't have a big farm, in fact, there was only enough to really support himself, so he recognized right away when something was off. He noticed two things. (1) There were footprints near the missing plants, several sets and not his own, and (2) A lot of plants were ripped and bitten. So, people have stolen from him and animals have been attacking his farm and livestock.

Mako went back to his home, washed his hands changed his clothes, and then sat in his living room. He pondered what to do. He couldn't afford one of those robots to watch the farm at night. What he needed was a scarecrow, but where to buy one? Not many stores carried them anymore since they weren't used as often anymore. Most farms were high-tech with robots as helping hands, but Mako didn't really trust robots to do his work for him and it was far too expensive for his tastes. A scarecrow would be perfect for the animals, and maybe if people saw it, they'd think that someone was standing there and not come closer.

There wasn't much work to be done on the farm today, but it still took him a while to clean up and take his animals out. He liked watching them wander around as they fed and interacted with each other. After a while, he went fishing by the small lake that was off the side of his farm. He caught a few decent sized fish that he could cook and eat, and for a while he just sat there and stared at the water. On days like this, he could remember sitting out here with his grandfather and fishing, listening to his stories, or swimming. Before the nostalgia hit him too hard, he went back inside to put his fish away for later.

If he was going to find this scarecrow, he had to leave before it got too late. After the animals were secure, he readied himself and left the house. The nearest town was a few miles away, and the walk usually wasn't too hard, except on a day like today when the sun was blazing. Usually he'd make the walk just to drop some weight, but today was too hot for that, so he made his way around to the small garage and pulled out his old motorcycle. He missed riding, but he didn't have the time anymore. It was just another part of his life that was gone.

The drive into town felt wonderful. The wind in his hair, the low mumbling of the rusted machine under him. It gave him a bit of a rush he hadn't had in a while. The feeling of driving free, being free, going where he wanted when he wanted, it was unlike anything he'd ever felt, and he was always sure that the open road was his one and only love.

Before long he reached the town and the market area was filled with tons of people. Humans, Omnics, — shopping, laughing, all going about their own lives. He felt a little out of place in the city like this. He stuck out like a sore thumb, and because of his size and scarred face, children often ran from him in fear, people walked faster. He looked like a brute, and he accepted that.

He paid them no mind as usual and wandered around, scouring every store he could find for a scarecrow, but he couldn't find anything. No stores carried them, and the shopkeepers just stared at him when he asked for a scarecrow. It was getting close to dusk, and he didn't want to be out too late, so he went back to his bike. Maybe a few days from now he'd come back and look more; the marketplace is always bustling with different traders with interesting wares.

Just as he was getting ready to sit on his bike, a shadow called out to him. "You, you're looking for something, are you?"

Mako stopped, surprised but not startled, and looked toward the voice. A person in a black hooded robe stood before him, seemed to be crouched over as well, as if they had back problems. The person didn't let him answer.

"Please, come with me. I have many odds and ends, surely something you'd like?"

Mako was more intrigued than anything else, and didn't believed that this person actually had what he needed. Even so, he nodded and followed the stranger down a small alley and into a little shop. The shop was filled with—as the stranger said—odds and ends. Rows and shelves up to the ceiling filled with strange things, weird figurines, random objects. But place was nice. It was well-kept, almost like the stranger was just occupying the space for the time, and didn't actually own the place.

"So, what is it you're looking for?"

Mako prodded at a bobble head that both interested him and made a knot tie in his stomach. Something was very off here, but he couldn't help but be interested.

"Sir?"

"Mm. Something scary?" Mako glanced over his shoulder.

The other chuckled. "Why would a scary man need a scary item?" they asked teasingly.

Mako turned to face them. "I'm a farmer. Need something to scare things away at night."

"Ooh, I see I see. So a scarecrow, then?" Mako nodded once. "Not many people looking for them anymore. Give me a moment, I have a priceless item that you'll certainly love!"

The stranger whisked away, seeming to glide across the floor and disappeared into a back room. Mako looked back to inspect the bobblehead, but it was gone. He looked down, the thought that maybe he'd knocked it over crossed his mind, but he would have noticed something like that, but it was nowhere to be seen. Mako wasn't easily unsettled, but this shop was making his hair stand on end; felt like everything in the store was watching him.

"Here we are!" The stranger heaved a ragged scarecrow onto the counter. It had a black sack mask over its head, hay sticking out from the top in a tied knot, and was dressed in black pants and ripped red plaid overalls covering the midsection. The mask was the creepiest. Mouth stretched and torn, eyes made of metal that protrude out. It definitely would keep animals away. Hell, even he'd steer clear if he saw it in the middle of the night.

"So, what do you think?"

"It's scary." Mako stared at the scarecrow.

"Well that is what you wanted, correct?" Mako nodded. "Then, will you buy?"

Mako nodded again. "Yeah. Chances are slim I'll find another."

"Very good!" Mako paid the strange person and then left the little shop with his scarecrow.

Carrying it in a little woven bag that the stranger had given him, he heaved it over his back, got on his bike, and drove home. The sun was going down and the air was becoming a bit more crisp and cool, as it did in Autumn. He liked the drive home. It was pretty, and calm.

By the time Mako got home, it was too late to do anything else. He was tired and wanted to go to bed, so he placed the scarecrow in the closet, and then went to take a shower. He was covered in sweat from the sun beating down on him, and a nice, long shower to get nice and clean was just what he needed. After, he dressed in night pants, going shirtless since it was warm in his room, and then climbed into bed. He pulled the string to the lamp on his nightstand, shutting it off, and laid down to sleep.

The moon began to rise shortly, but something stirred. A dim light shone from the closet, beaming through the cracks. The scarecrow twitched once before remaining still. Its eyes lit up, and its head fell to the side limply, and watched the closet door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thanks for reading!**  
>  If you like this fic, please let me know with a comment! It's what keeps us writers going!
> 
> Follow me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/squeakster_), or say stuff/ask me things on [**CuriousCat**](https://curiouscat.me/squeakster_)!   
>  My other links [**here**](https://listography.com/squeakster).   
>  [**Come join my 18+ only RoadRat Discord!**](https://discord.gg/esM77UT)


	2. Awoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still writing this, I'm just being lazy about it.
> 
> Enjoy

It was dark, and quiet, and slightly cold. At first, Jamison didn't know what to think. It'd been so long since he actually _thought_ , the concept was foreign to him. It all came rushing back to him and his lungs filled with air in a desperate gasp as he tried to breathe. He'd forgotten how to for a moment, and the bag over his head wasn't making it any easier. It felt like something was keeping his mouth closed as well, and he was overall very uncomfortable.

It'd been awhile since he'd last woken up, so moving felt odd to him. He slowly moved his arms and legs to his sides and felt the flesh under his ragged clothing, pants on his legs, and no shoes on his feet. His limbs felt a bit heavier than he remembered, but he wasn't sure if that was just his mind playing tricks.

Jamison jolted up, finally remembering everything — he was cursed centuries ago to be a scarecrow. He pulled the bag off of his head and everything was still dark, but he saw a bit of natural light from the moon coming in from between the cracks of the door. Now able to, he touched his mouth where he felt thread sewn into his lips. It hurt, but the pain was dull since his body was still waking up; his nerves weren't quite awake yet. It was a bit overwhelming to feel and hear himself breathing, to be thinking and moving again, so it took him a moment to really relax and take it all in.

The little area where he found himself was warm, unlike the cold places he'd found himself in many times before, and he wondered where he wound up now. After a moment he heard something from outside the small space — snoring, deep and low.

Curious, he stumbled forward onto his knees and hit his head on the door. He hissed in pain, but slapped a hand over his mouth to remind himself to be quiet. His legs still felt weak and a bit numb; he doubted he could fully walk yet.

After his forehead stopped stinging, he reached out and felt around the door until it pushed open with a creak. He crawled out a few inches on his hands and knees to inspect the room. It was lit with moonlight, and he could see the outline of most furniture. There was a bed in the center of the room, now right in front of him, where the snoring was coming from. A big lump was on top of it and shifted some.

'That must be who...' he trailed off. He blinked a few times and then turned his head to see the rest of the room. Once he saw the door, he crawled quietly to it and used the nearby dresser to heave himself off the ground. Managing to get to his feet, though stumbling a bit, he reached the door and left.

The hall was dark and colder than the other room, and using the walls as a crutch he made his way down the hall, and eventually turned into the first room he came across, which luckily happened to be a bathroom. He frantically patted his hand against the wall to find the lightswitch, and eventually the light flipped on and it blinded him briefly. Once he stopped seeing spots, he closed the door. Jamison looked at himself in the mirror, and was stunned. String stitched his lips together, and blackened blood was dried along his mouth. Someone must have sewn his lips together while he was asleep, probably to make him look more scary without the sack over his head.

Jamison crawled onto the sink to look closer at himself, legs easily bending to sit there. Pain settled in and the stitches stung now that his body adjusted and return to normal. As carefully as he could, he tugged on a section of the string; it wasn't knotted at the end so he was able to pull it out, but the movement caused fresh blood to soak the string and drip into the sink below him. He winced and grunted in pain as he continued to pull the stitches out of each hole in his lips. It was hard to keep quiet. Not having felt pain in so long, his eyes watered and filled to the brims with pained tears; he wanted to cry out.

Finally the last thread was out and he could breathe a sigh of relief. Though he stared down at his blood that had spattered against the shiny white surface of the sink. He had to wash it away before it was seen, but he couldn't use any of the cloths that were around, so he turned the water on and wet his hand, and rubbed his skin against the blood to remove it, and just hoped that it wouldn't stain. After inspecting the sink to make sure it was clean, he took the bloodied strings and shoved them into his pocket.

Jamison unfolded his legs and let himself slide off the sink top, but as soon as his weight pushed down on his feet, his legs gave out under him and he collapsed. Cursing and scowling under his breath with his face still flattened to the nice checkered tiled floor. It took him a few seconds to gain the strength to push himself up. He rubbed at his sore cheek and then decided that crawling might just be the best thing for him, so he left the bathroom on his hands and knees and returned to the room where he woke up.

Mako was still in bed and still snoring. Jamison crawled over to the bed, he moved up so he could peek over the edge of the mattress. Golden eyes widened. The man's face was directly at him; if he opened his eyes, he'd be staring right into Jamison's soul. Jamison swallowed hard when the man rolled onto his back, snoring softly again. Jamison sighed in relief and then leaned up a little more to inspect the other further. Mako was big, much bigger than himself. His hands—one which was at his side and the other on his round belly—were large and could easily cup almost his entire face in just one palm. A large tattoo was inked on his belly, most of which was hidden under a log of an arm, and looked faded with age. Speaking of his arms, Jamison noticed how muscular the man was; he must do a lot of physical work because he definitely had the body for it. His face was a bit round, but rugged with some lines from age and white stubble for a beard. What caught Jamison's eye the most were the thick scars down one of the man's eyes and down his mouth, splitting his lips.

'So this is who took me, huh?' Jamison thought to himself. He got a little comfortable and folded his arms on the bed, pressed his face into a palm, and watched Mako sleep. 'He's...kinda attractive,' he grinned and tilted his head as if that made his view better. It made Jamison happy to know that someone wanted him again, and he kind of wished that he could get to know this man. Mako kept snoring, breathing in and out and made his belly heave up and down. It was peaceful and made Jamison smile.

Until Mako suddenly coughed and grunted. Jamison nearly screamed from being startled and fell backwards until his back hit the nightstand—nearly knocking the lamp off of it—and then hit the floor. When Jamison opened his eyes, ignoring the tears welling up in them, he saw large feet draped over the bed.

'Oh shit,' Jamison cursed to himself as he realized that Mako was going to get up—and step right on his face in the process. Hurriedly, Jamison rolled to the side, spinning until he was hidden under the bed. He made a few thudding noises but he hoped that the man was too sleepy still to have noticed. Jamison watched Mako's feet slump heavily across the floor and out of the room.

Everything was silent but Jamison could hear his heart beating hard. That was too close. He couldn't let Mako see him, he was a cursed being and would be hated, and he didn't want to screw it up. After a few seconds he calmed down and stared at the bottom of the door. A few minutes later, Mako returned and sat on his bed. His feet dangled a few inches from Jamison's face and he had to hold his breath to keep from alerting the other. Jamison heard a few large gulps of water and then a tap of a cup being set on the nightstand. Next he heard the creak of the bed above him, Mako sighing as he got comfortable, and then silence.

Jamison waited another few minutes to hear the snoring before sliding out from under the bed. Once again, Jamison peeked up over the edge of the mattress. His breath caught in his throat when he came face to face with the man. Mako was asleep and snored softly, the man looked so peaceful, and more than ever Jamison wanted to know him. He wondered about who the man was, and it made him sad that he'd never know. However, a thought crossed his mind, and his lips turned down into a natural frown.

Using the nightstand to his side, Jamison grabbed the corner and lifted himself up, his legs still shook slightly under his weight, but he managed to get to his feet and not fall this time. Jamison looked across from himself, above the nightstand and behind the lamp, was a window. He leaned closer, pushing the curtains over some to give himself better view. It was a farm; a small one, but maybe just big enough for one person.

The thought of this man living here by himself somehow made Jamison feel sad; he knew what it was like to be alone. Another thought crossed his mind and he grinned proudly as he stared out the window. He glanced over to the sleeping man and told himself that he'd protect this farm. He was a scarecrow, that was his job, but he also wanted to say thanks for bringing him back to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thanks for reading!**  
>  If you like this fic, please let me know with a comment! It's what keeps us writers going!
> 
> Follow me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/squeakster_), or say stuff/ask me things on [**CuriousCat**](https://curiouscat.me/squeakster_)!   
>  My other links [**here**](https://listography.com/squeakster).   
>  [**Come join my 18+ only RoadRat Discord!**](https://discord.gg/esM77UT)


	3. Strange Happenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was good to know something about the man._
> 
> \----
> 
> Soo...it's been...literally forever since I updated this fic. I've hit a roadblock with Rust so maybe shifting my focus to this fic for a while will help? I dunno.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

Mako rose the next morning, sleepy but well-rested. He allowed himself to be a bit lazy, waiting ten minutes before even peeling himself away from the bed. He took a quick shower, and then headed downstairs to make coffee and a breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausages. After breakfast, he went back to his room, opened the closet door and looked down. Immediately he was stumped; the scarecrow was in a different spot, and the sack that had been over its head was now lying on the floor beside it.

Feeling unnerved by the sight, he glanced around to see if there were any signs of entry, but nothing was out of the ordinary, except for the scarecrow. He couldn't let himself get too distracted by it though, and grabbed the scarecrow and the sack, and then headed outside.

The sun was peeking over the trees and shining its light on his little farm, the birds chirped and flew out for their breakfast, and the air was cool and damp. Mako entered the barn, where he was greeted by his family of pigs, the babies more excited than the parents and ran in circles around and between his legs. After a moment of playing with the piglets, Mako placed the scarecrow on a table and went in search of some things.

Meanwhile, a few of the piglets wobbled over and sniffed at the scarecrow's limbs that hung over the edge of the table. One sniffed and snorted and then hid behind its mother, a few others were more curious than frightened, while the mother poked her snout against the straw-filled limb. She bit the hand and then dragged it off the tablet. The scarecrow hit the floor with a thump and startled the piglets into backing up, squealing softly. Mako heard the commotion and quickly came to see what had happened, and found some of the braver piglets nibbling and pulling on the limbs of the scarecrow, even tugging some of the straw out from between the loose stitching.

He laughed at them but took the scarecrow away before they ruined it, scooping it up in his arms, box rope in hand. Outside, he gathered up some stakes and pounded them into the ground before tying the scarecrow up with the box rope. There. That should keep some nocturnal critters away, hopefully.

There were a few things he had to do. Feed the pigs, let them out, plant some new crops, water the current ones. Throughout the day, he felt odd. The wind would blow through his hair and chill him to the bone, but it was hot out; there's no way he should be cold, not out in the sun like this. Each time it happened, he'd look back to the scarecrow, as if the source of his discomfort came from it. The straw sticking out of its head waved gently in the breeze, and the metal shapes for eyes were looking in two different directions, yet felt like they were watching him and nothing else. Mako wasn't superstitions, didn't believe in anything he couldn't see with his eyes, but he couldn't deny that it felt like something else was with him; a presence other than his pigs.

Evening came and Mako retired to his home. He needed a shower now that he was covered in dirt from planting new crops and harvesting current once. His arms and hands had dirt crusted onto them, under his nails, and dust covered most of his body. Washing it off was refreshing, getting the dirt out of his hair and out from under his nails always felt wonderful, but as he got out, with just a towel around his waist, he glanced out the window overlooking his farm. The scarecrow was still there. Of course it was, where would it go? Even inside, he felt like the thing was watching him and it made him shiver.

The king sized bed in Mako's room was perhaps a bit redundant for just one man, but he was big and liked to spread out and relax, and that's just what he did after dinner. He was exhausted and needed the rest, and fell asleep quickly, almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

 

The moon rose again and Jamison had that same feeling as before. His body was stiff and he could barely move, but he soon realized that the reason was because he was tied up to some sort of stake. He wiggled his arms, and eventually managed to free one arm from the loosened rope. When he freed his one arm, he reached over to try to free the other; his lower body was hanging freely, and the weight suddenly pulling down on the rope made them even more loose, and he fell.

The ground was hard and cool, and it hurt when his face collided with it. He supposed it was a good thing though, just to be able to feel again. Getting to his feet was a bit difficult but he got the hang of walking much faster than the previous night. He pulled the sack off of his head, and now, with this mysterious, unknown farm before him, his curiosity kicked in and he was just itching to explore.

And that's exactly what he did. He went down by the lake and saw some fish swimming around. There were nets and fishing poles on the dock, and some empty beer bottles as well.

"So he likes ta fish, huh?" Jamison observed with a chuckle. It was good to know something about the man, and fishing was a good pastime for a farmer since it provided food as well.

Continuing his exploration, he came to the barn. There was some rustling going on inside, and when he peeked inside, the light let him see a family of pigs. They were...so cute, and Jamison wanted to approach them. So he did. They weren't scared of him, not all of them at least, and let him come close. He sat down and one crawled into his lap while a few others circled him sniffing and poking at him. These pigs were so friendly, and seemed to take a liking to him. As much as he wanted to stay and play longer, he heard something rattle outside and it made him curious.

There were people sneaking onto the farm, men dressed in dark clothing with small flashlights to light their way. Jamison crept near the barn door, hiding in the shadows and, eyes shining low as he watched the men begin to shove crops into large bags. The sight infuriated Jamison fists clenched at his sides and his body felt hot with rage. One of the men began to head to the barn, heading straight for Jamison. Quickly, he scaled up the wooden support beams like he was a spider and hid up top. The man came in, slipping through the crack in the door and then stepped inside. Jamison gripped onto the beam under his feet, swung his legs down, and then dropped behind the man. His body made a thud and the man turned around with a grunt, thinking it was his mates joining him, but what he saw made his blood run cold.

A tall creature with burning orange coals for eyes, arms seeming to unhinge from his body. Lanky, like a large dead tree looming over him. It was just his imagination, the effect of the light and darkness, mind playing tricks on him, forcing him to see a monster where there wasn't. A low growl came from the creature and the man screamed in terror, throwing his flashlight to the ground as he tripped backwards and fell. Jamison slithered forward to follow him, body lowering and then bolting after him once the man tried to run. Jamison was faster and ended up behind him and grabbed his arm. The man yanked on his captive arm and struggled against the creature; Jamison was much stronger than he looked, still he knew he had to be careful since his body was still not fully restored; he could feel how frail his limbs were, like they could easily be torn off.

The man shouted for him to let go and continued to struggle, the pigs in the barn squealed in fear, and while as Jamison was halfway through telling him to return what he'd stolen, there was suddenly a hot pain in his right arm. He flinched and let go of the man as he felt blood start to drip down his arm and stain his clothing. There was a knife jutting through his arm, held by a different man.

Next thing Jamison knew, his arm was on the floor, from the elbow down. It was sudden and shocking, the pain, the feeling of nothing being there anymore. Blood poured from the wound, but it was darker than usual, nearly black in color. He didn't worry about the blood; he knew it wouldn't kill him, but the man who had severed his arm was now stuttering in fright as the arm on the floor had now turned to straw.

"Monster!" the man yelled. Jamison turned his body to face him and a devilish grin spread on his lips.

"Monster?" Jamison sounded appalled and even recoiled like it physically hurt him. "That's not very nice." Jamison took a swing and his fist connected with the man's cheek, sending him to the floor. The other one, however, managed to get to up and suddenly whipped a machete across Jamison's knee, severing another limb.

Jamison couldn't recover from it and he fell over. His cheek hit the ground hard but it was a small pain compared to his arm and leg screaming. His nerves were on fire and blood was pouring out of him.

It won't kill him. He told himself that over and over, but he could feel his consciousness fading and the pain made him tear up. The rest of the men came in and helped the two frightened members of their party regain themselves. They frantically told them about the monster scarecrow, and some seemed to disbelieve it, but another came up to Jamison and kicked him in the stomach before grabbing one of the piglets who was squealing.

Jamison tried to crawl after them to stop them, but once he was at the entrance of the barn, they slammed it in his face. Still desperate, he stuck his good arm under the door and clawed at anything he could reach. Unfortunately, all he grasped was some dirt and stray strands of grass. Jamison heard their footsteps fading and he buried his face into the dirt floor. Hearing the piglet squealing for help broke Jamison's heart, and he knew he couldn't do anything about it.

Once everything had gone quiet, he forced himself up, leaning heavily on one side of his body. A trail of blood formed as he crawled, his stumps bleeding profusely as he made his way toward the back exit of the barn. It was dark outside and he couldn't see, so when the ground suddenly slanted under him, it sent him tumbling down a small hill where his head slammed against a tree. He felt dizzy and his entire body hurt; if he was human, he likely would have bled out by now, but this...monstrous body of his kept him holding on by just a strand. It was torture. The urge to close his eyes was strong and he just couldn't fight it, and once he gave up, he lost consciousness.

 

Morning rose and Mako started his day like usual. Shower, coffee, breakfast, and then out to check on his crops and animals. As soon as he stepped out the door onto his deck he noticed that the scarecrow was missing, he then moved his gaze to the left he saw that some crops had been trampled over. By all the footprints in the dirt, it was clear that more than one person had been here during the night, and the fact of his scarecrow was missing was proof that it wasn't enough to keep people from stealing from him.

He set his sights on the barn next, worried about his pigs. The door creaked open, but even Mako wasn't prepared for the scene before him. There was blood everywhere, but the pigs seemed to be sleeping still with some of them just waking up. Usually blood would make animals frightened and more alert, but something was keeping them calm. As he walked through the barn he noticed some marks on the dirt floor where it looked like a scuffle happened. Did the intruders fight among themselves? Mako counted his pigs, and counted one of the piglets missing. He grit his teeth and cursed out loud.

One of the piglets got his attention by oinking and sniffing at something on the floor. Mako stepped closer to see what the piglet was looking at and grew increasingly more confused with the situation; fabric that had been part of his scarecrow's clothing was lying partially buried in a heap of rotting straw.

The piglet took the red checkered fabric into its mouth and looked at Mako, but when Mako neared the pig to take it, the little thing bounced backwards and ran towards the back exit of the barn. That's when Mako noticed that the door was cracked open and there was more blood on the ground. The blood was leading out back, and it was where the piglet was trying to lead him as well.

It was strange but he knew to trust his animals, so he followed the piglet out back, grabbing a shovel along the way just in case there was someone else. The piglet sniffed around where the trail of blood started, and then ran forward, following the trail. Mako knew there was a hill just on the other side of the bushes so he rushed after the pig, but the animal stopped and poked at the bushes. Mako squinted his eyes looking for anything. The piglet seemed to want him to go further, so he did and looked down the hill.

At the bottom of the hill was his scarecrow, battered, torn, parts missing, and covered in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jamie.
> 
> \--
> 
>  **Thanks for reading!**  
>  If you like this fic, please let me know with a comment! It's what keeps us writers going!
> 
> Follow me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/squeakster_), or say stuff/ask me things on [**CuriousCat**](https://curiouscat.me/squeakster_)!   
>  My other links [**here**](https://listography.com/squeakster).   
>  [**Come join my 18+ only RoadRat Discord!**](https://discord.gg/esM77UT)


	4. Animal Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hitting the ground was never fun, no matter the height._
> 
> \----
> 
> Hello and welcome back to BML!  
> I'm really getting back into this fic and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Mako carefully slid down the hill, leaving the piglet to watch from above, and approached the scarecrow. The blood was soaking into the clothes, and stained the ground around it as well.

What happened last night? Why did it look like the scarecrow was bleeding? Mako couldn't wrap his head around it, so he decided to shove his confusion to the side and proceeded to pick up the scarecrow and make his way back to the barn; after all, there was nothing he could do. He locked the back door and stayed to clean up the blood, but the sheer amount of it was frightening. If someone had lost this much blood, they wouldn't live long enough to get to the nearest hospital.

Even if he wanted to go about his day like usual and ignore what he found, within the first hour he found himself questioning it again. Why did the blood lead to the scarecrow? Why were there no other trails? No other bodies? Mako eyed the scarecrow that he'd hung back up, having to tie its waist to the pole now since it was missing an arm.

That was strange as well. The whole thing had Mako's mind going in circles with question marks. He couldn't let it get him too distracted, though, he had to plant new crops, tend to his pigs, and then think of a way to increase security. He didn't trust the high-tech robots on the market, plus those were far too expensive for him, so he needed a more basic form of protection.

It wasn't often that Mako brought out his laptop, only when he needed to look something up or order something, and it just so happened that he needed to do both. Within the hour he had enough barbed wire ordered to outline his entire farm and-then-some. Now he just had to wait for it to arrive.

The rest of the day he cleaned up the farm, making spots to put up the wire, while also letting his pigs out for a while. He didn't notice what they were doing at first, but when he turned to go to the barn to grab a shovel, he saw one piglet sniffing at the foot of the scarecrow.

Mako was not superstitious; he didn't have time for that stuff, but he couldn't deny that he felt that there was something...odd about the scarecrow, and the piglet was acting so strangely too. First leading Mako out the back of the barn, and now almost like she was trying to play with the scarecrow. It made his mind wander but he knew it was pointless. There was no explanation, just the strange truth and people stealing from his farm

/

His package arrived in the mail three days later, meanwhile everything had been unusually quiet ever since the incident a few days prior. No more break ins, no blood, just a few animals sneaking in but they were little cause for concern. Every day, Mako let his pigs out, and the same piglet would always go right to the scarecrow like she was greeting him in the morning, and did this _every_  morning. There was no exception the day the package came; the piglet went out and greeted the scarecrow, almost with haste this time, but Mako had learned to ignore it and continue on.

He grabbed some metal poles and some tools to pin the wire into place, and made his way out into the fields. Removing the old fencing and putting up the barbed wire was a tedious job and took a long time, but once it was finished, he had to admit that he felt safer just having the wire lining the perimeter of his farm.

Evening came and Mako led his pigs back into the barn. The one piglet, however, seemed to refuse to listen to him. She stayed at the base of the pole holding the scarecrow up, curled up and resting. Mako went to her and picked her up, but the moment he did she started squealing and tried to get free. Her eyes were on the scarecrow.

Mako looked at the scarecrow in confusion, then reached out to touch its chest of tan burlap and the stitches that ran over the neck, and felt warmth on his fingers. This thing felt...alive. Mako began to step backwards after the thought, kept his eyes on the scarecrow until he was several feet away before he turned his back and briskly headed towards the barn.

Back inside the comfort of his room, Mako stared out over his farm as the sun set. He couldn't help but stare at the scarecrow as if he was waiting for it to suddenly move, and with his fading eyesight and the darkness rapidly approaching, it looked like it was moving, struggling to get away from its bondage. Tiredness reminded him of how long he'd been up, but he couldn't shake the weird feeling he had. The same feeling he'd had for days, like he wasn't fully alone.

"Just the exhaustion taking," he mumbled to himself as he sat on his bed, stripped his dirty clothes off, and changed into his sleepwear; pastel blue pajama shorts with small pink pigs printed all over them. He turned off his light, reclined onto his back, head pressed against the many soft pillows, and drifted to sleep.

/

/

Jamison woke again but this time was different; he hadn't woken up since that night when the robbers attacked him. Everything was hazy, but he immediately felt rope pulling on his stomach. His fingers explored the fraying rope until he found where it tied and fidgeted with it until it was loose enough for him to fall. Hitting the ground was never fun no matter the height, and the impact only reminded him of his lost limbs when pain screamed through his arm and leg.

The events of that night played through his mind and he tried to grab at his right hand but simply grasped at air. There was nothing. He repeated the action for his leg and only dug his fingers into the dirt. It was...strange, and Jamison had to breathe in a few times to keep himself from panic. The feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar; his body felt like that after waking up for the first time, but his arm and leg were gone. Just gone, and it made him go silent.

He spent the better part of an hour just sitting there staring at his stumps and wondering how to function. But it wasn't the worst thing he'd dealt with in the past hundred or so years. He just needed some time to collect his thoughts, and once he did, he began to crawl towards the barn. Perhaps something there could help him.

The door was locked, so he tried the back door. Jamison noticed that all the blood he lost was mostly gone, with just some red mixing with the dirt and making it darker. The farmer must have been in here to clean it up, but he didn't have time to think about that.

The pigs all woke up as soon as he started to look through some piles of useless junk, tools, and wood. He grabbed a short plank of wood and turned around only to have several snorting snouts in his face, pushing closer to inspect him. He chuckled and fell backwards, several of the piglets climbed onto him and nuzzled at him happily. The mamma pig just watched her children play, not seeming to mind his strange presence.

Jamison sat with the piglets for a while, working with the wooden plank to fashion it into a sort of makeshift peg-leg. When he lifted his pant-leg, he saw the stump of his leg; it was irritated and stained with blood, but there was no open wound. His skin seemed to mesh together and created a stump all on its own, same as his arm. Jamison couldn't deny that he was stunned by his own body, never before had he had a limb removed, but he knew that his body was something monstrous and magical, and this proved it even more. Jamison fastened the plank of wood to his leg with rope and then tested his balance on it. It was no where near perfect, of course, but it was something. It hurt his stump but the pain was somewhat dull thanks to his body healing as he slept.

Now that he had some mobility back, he made his way out of the barn. He had to keep one of the piglets from following him, but soon he was out and hobbled towards the front. He looked up at the house and he noticed that a second story window was open by a few inches.

"Probably the farmer's room," he thought aloud to himself but quietly, and then headed for the house. As he expected, the door was locked, so he paced around looking for another way to get in. At some point he thought that breaking into the house was perhaps not the best thing he could be doing, but his ideas weren't always safe. Or legal.

Jamison noticed that the house was partially made of stone, jagged rocks cut in rectangles and stacked up. Reminded him of the old days, and perfect for climbing. However, Jamison did find it a bit more difficult than before now that he was missing half of his limbs, but he still managed to scale up the side of the house rather quickly and reach the window.

The familiar sound of the farmer snoring filled his ears and he smiled under his burlap mask. He ducked and poked his head through the small gap, but his upper body wouldn't budge through it. It didn't stop him from trying and he pushed up some, but the weight on his makeshift leg didn't hold and it twisted, causing him to lose his balance. His body slid down an inch or so and he grasped at anything to keep him from falling; His fingers grabbed at the lamp on the table while his stump arm slid against the wooden top of the nightstand, trying to find a grip anywhere. His head tilted back and hit the widow with a loud bang, and his flailing hand knocked the lamp over onto the floor.

Mako gave a startled grunt as the noise woke him and he bolted up from his bed. Right as he looked over at the window, he saw what looked like an arm fall and disappear outside, followed by a loud thud and a yelp of pain.

'Another fucking burglar,' Mako grit his teeth and grabbed the shotgun that he kept loaded and next to his bed. Not bothering to put on more than some slippers, he briskly left his bedroom and headed outside.

Hitting the ground was never fun, no matter the height. The peg-leg was nearly falling off but Jamison didn't have time to worry about how much falling from a second story window hurt, and quickly pulled on the ropes to tighten the leg back up. He froze when he heard movement, doors unlocking. His fight or flight instinct kicked in and his eyes started to glow orange, but it was flight that won, and he took off running, stumbling as he got to his feet.

Running was hard with a busted peg-leg, but it didn't stop his legs from moving. He heard the door swing open behind him but he dare not look back; he knew the farmer was after him, but...why was he running?

'I didn't do nothin' wrong!' his mind screamed. 'I was breakin' in but I wasn't gonna steal anythin'! I just wanted to-'

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud echoing noise; a gun fired and hit his peg-leg. Jamison didn't feel anything but the impact made him fall forward right into the barbed wire that Mako had put up. The mask he wore protected his face and eyes, but his arms and chest were sliced and everything stung. He smashed through the wire, ripping it from the poles as he did, and tumbled down a small incline where he finally landed in the small lake.

Mako approached cautiously and watched as the person struggled in the water. He reached down and grabbed the man by the arm and flopped him on the dirt. Jamison was whimpering in pain and shaking, pieces of the wire still sticking into his skin.

Mako pressed his gun to Jamison's chest. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"J-Jamison! My name's Jamison!" he shouted at him, showing not a sign of resistance once he felt a gun pointed at him.

The gun pressed harder. "Why are you here for? What are you trying to steal?"

"Nothing! I…" Jamison's voice sputtered into sobs. "It hurts. Everything fuckin' hurts!"

Mako's eyes widened and he carefully turned on a small electric lantern that he kept by his fishing spot. The light illuminated Jamison's body and Mako was so stunned by the sight that he took a step backwards.

The scarecrow?

No, impossible…

But those clothes, that sack mask.

Mako shook his head. He must be going crazy, but...all it took was one glance over to the cross where he hung the scarecrow earlier to see that it was gone. Looking back at Jamison, Mako noticed the missing limbs, same as the scarecrow. None of it made any sense.

Mako grit his teeth and pushed the end of his shotgun against Jamison's side. His finger hesitated on the trigger, he squeezed just slightly, and then heard a pig oinking loudly behind him. He spun around fast, and all the pigs started to oink and squeal in distress. Mako looked at Jamison, but cared more for the pigs. If the man was a thief, he may have brought others.

The barn was locked but Mako always kept a spare under a pot outside. As soon as he opened the door the smallest piglet, the one who led him to the scarecrow before bolted out and ran straight for Jamison. Mako had no choice but to chase her.

Mako was beyond shocked. The piglet was pushing her nose against Jamison's mask, making a concerned noise and then tuning to oink at Mako, like she was defending Jamison from him. Mako's pigs didn't trust anyone except for him, but the piglet continued to oink loudly at him until he lowered his gun completely.

Kneeling down, Mako pet the pig on the head to reassure her and then looked at the man lying on the ground twitching in pain.

"Fine, you win."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Hayseed.
> 
> \--
> 
>  **Thanks for reading!**  
>  If you like this fic, please let me know with a comment! It's what keeps us writers going!
> 
> Follow me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/squeakster_), or say stuff/ask me things on [**CuriousCat**](https://curiouscat.me/squeakster_)!   
>  My other links [**here**](https://listography.com/squeakster).   
>  [**Come join my 18+ only RoadRat Discord!**](https://discord.gg/esM77UT)


	5. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jamison was different from Mako, no doubt about it, but he felt connected to him in some weird way. Both looked odd to outsiders._
> 
> \--
> 
> Happy September everyone!

Even as Mako removed the barbed wire from Jamison's body, he was still unsure about trusting him. Even in this state of fear and pain, the man reeked of something terrifying. He wanted to have faith in his animals, considering how determined the piglet was about the strange man, but he couldn't shake an ominous feeling that tugged at the back of his mind that old him to leave this whole thing behind him

With the barbed wire gone and Jamison now lying lifelessly on the ground, Mako carefully scooped him up into his arms and headed for the house. Jamison was light and it took little effort for Mako to carry him inside. It didn't feel natural; for someone his height, Jamison should weigh more, but he felt as light as a feather.

Mako sat Jamison on the couch and took a few steps back. Jamison's head fell forward, limp with the rest of his body. Still, Mako could see the slight movement of breathing from the other, and if he was honest he was disappointed in that; he wished this whole thing was a dream. Seeing the same clothing that was on his scarecrow now on a living, breathing human was taking Mako's brain for a trip. It couldn't be real, it just _couldn't_. Mako even pinched the skin of his wrist to test it, but nothing changed. Jamison was still sitting on the couch, hunched over like a ragdoll.

Perhaps the stranger was unconscious; he wasn't moving or making any sound at all. There was blood dripping down Jamison's skin from where he was punctured and cut by the barbed wire, so Mako did what anyone would and got some cloth and water to clean it. Jamison's body was a bit strange looking, but even in the dim lighting of the living room Mako could make out marks that looked like scars all along his arms.

Jamison had his eyes closed, keeping the dim orange light hidden, but he could still hear everything around him. Mako had stepped away from him and he knew he was alone for a few moments. In those moments Jamison contemplated running, but the empty space where his leg used to be reminded him that running would only end badly for him, as it had gone badly once already.

Those moments passed quickly and Jamison heard Mako return. He heard wrappers being torn, sounds of Mako messing with something.

He couldn't help jolting in surprise when warm hands suddenly gripped his flesh arm and pressed something damp to a small cut there.

Mako only tightened his grip.

"So you are awake." Mako continued to use the damp cloth to clean the blood from Jamison's arm.

Jamison didn't respond to Mako in any way, in fact he was more stiff and tense than he was before he spoke. He'd been caught by the one person he just couldn't be revealed too. The man who bought him and unknowingly brought him back to life. Mako was never supposed to find him. Jamison supposed it was just the icing on the cake; the cake being the worse few days of his life, and that was saying something considering he was a cursed human.

Mako took Jamison's silence as fear and finished up, and stuck a bandage on the biggest cut on his arm.

"Now, who are you?" Mako asked and stepped back from him. Jamison shifted a bit, unsure if he should answer. He opened his eyes slowly and orange light flickered out the cylinder shapes on the front of his mask, and he looked up at Mako. It was dark and his vision was a little fuzzy, but he could make out the shake and facial expression Mako had. It'd been a while since Jamison had seen him, but this time Mako was awake and staring right at him, asking him a question.

"Jamison," he finally answered.

"Okay, Jamison," Mako said and narrowed his eyes, making Jamison shiver slightly, "what happened to my scarecrow?"

The question confused Jamison and he tilted his head to the side. Mako was looking right at it, his scarecrow. Was it not obvious?

"What happened to my scarecrow?" Mako asked again with a more demanding tone.

"T-that's, uh... Well uh, nothin' happened to your scarecrow. I'm uh... I'm the scarecrow," he answered, twiddling his fingers at the front of his overalls. He was clearly anxious with the topic at hand.

Mako didn't believe him stepped closer, towering over the rail of a man. "Don't test me. Tell me what happened."

"I did!" Jamison shouted back at him, shaking his head rapidly "I'm the scarecrow! Always have been!"

Mako watched as the man held his face in his one hand.

"I'm the scarecrow. I'm the scarecrow…" Jamison mumbled as he rocked a bit, like he was terrified.

" _Calm down._ " Mako grabbed Jamison's shoulder and held him still. "Calm down and explain how exactly you are my scarecrow."

Jamison let out a little whine and darted his eyes around.

"Was cursed, now I'm a scarecrow. That simple."

Mako growled at him. "You're not making any sense." As Mako took another step towards him, losing his temper, the piglet who followed them inside jumped up onto the couch and laid across Jamison's lap.

Jamison, who had tensed and leaned backwards into the couch to cower, seemed to relax immediately and began to pet her.

"Hey girl, how're ya doin'?" the pig oinked at Jamison and he chuckled. "Sorry if I worried ya."

Mako watched how the sack mask actually changed expressions as Jamison laughed or smiled, the orange light flickered out but wasn't bright enough to light the area. What was possibly more shocking than that was seeing how comfortable the piglet was with this...thing. Jamison seemed so kind and like he really cared about the piglet.

"Let me get this straight. _You_  are the scarecrow?"

"Yep."

"What about during the day? My scarecrow doesn't look like this," he motioned up and down Jamison's body with his hand.

"Only like this at night."

"That part of your...curse?" Jamison nodded, still playing with the pig. "Alright, explain this 'curse' then," Mako told him and crossed his arms.

Jamison's head tilted up, looking at Mako with those strange glowing eyes of his. Mako couldn't deny that it was unnerving and sent a shiver down his spine.

"Not much to it. Was cursed, uh...say, uh, what year is it?"

"2076," Mako answered.

Jamison's eyes went wide under the mask. He went completely silent and began to count on his fingers. After a minute he spoke again.

"So, it's been, eighty years, longer maybe..."

"What year were you born?"

"Can't remember. Sometime in the seventies I think," Jamison answered. "Er, the nineteen-seventies, I mean."

Mako was stunned. This creature was pushing a hundred years old. It felt impossible looking at him and hearing his voice, muffled as it was. Mako had to take a moment and sat down on the coffee table across from Jamison, and sat in silence for a minute. As Mako pondered and tried to understand, Jamison had begun to play with the piglet again, making small "rawr" noises at it and scratching its ears.

"So... What do you want?" Mako finally asked.

Jamison perked up from paying attention to the pig. "What'cha mean?"

"Some...magic cursed creature shows up on my farm, you gotta want something."

"Excuse me, _you_  bought me. Better question is what _you_  want."

"I bought a scarecrow to protect my farm, but I didn't ask for...this," he motioned to Jamison's body again.

"L-Listen mate, I'm still a scarecrow, I'm no threat, and I can protect yer farm," Jamison nodded like he was agreeing with himself. "Don't gotta worry about anything."

"Were you...awake, when my farm was attacked earlier this week?"

Jamison went quiet and turned away from him. "I was."

"So you let my crops get stolen and destroyed, and-" Mako grit his teeth and stood up. "You let them take one of my pigs, and you want me to trust you?"

Jamison shook his head and clutched the piglet to his chest. "I tried! I really did! But they-!" Jamison stopped and looked down. Mako followed his line of sight to his right side where his limbs were gone, and Mako's expression softened.

"Did they do that?" he asked.

Jamison nodded silently.

"That would explain all the blood leading to your body..."

Jamison pulled his good leg onto the couch and crossed it in front of him. He watched Mako for a few moments and noticed that the man was fairly calm even though the information that was given to him would flip anyone's world upside down.

"You're...taking all this better than most would..." Jamison mumbled.

Mako rubbed his temples and sat back down. "I'm still not entirely convinced this isn't a dream."

Jamison tilted his head. "I'll wake up again tomorrow, you'll see."

Mako wasn't sure if he could believe him or not, it all still felt too much like a dream, and he was tired and disoriented. The piglet loved Jamison, and Mako trusted her judgment, so he had to trust Jamison as well. He didn't seem bad, just...strange.

Something then caught Mako's eye – blood. Running down Jamison's neck and to his chest from under his mask. A cut on his neck that Mako hadn't seen. Jamison recoiled backwards when Mako's large hand came at him and grabbed the edges of his mask.

"You're bleeding under there," Mako said and swiped some of the blood from Jamison's collarbone onto his finger, and then showed it to the other man.

Jamison shook his head and pulled the edges of his mask down, clearly not comfortable with showing his face. A question then hit Mako; was there even a face under there?

"You're not going to bleed all over my couch." Mako yanked on the top of his mask and Jamison pulled back in protest.

"Ow ow ow! That's my hair!" Mako let go and growled out a sigh.

"Either you let me clean that blood, you do it yourself, or you get out."

"I'll do it myself!" Jamison said quickly and stopped himself just before attempting getting up.

"Good luck getting to the bathroom with one leg, and you don't even know where it is," Mako laughed at how the other turned away from him, out of embarrassment probably.

"I know where it is! Been there befo-!" he slapped his hand over where his mouth was under the mask, Mako could see the shape of his mouth under his hand and through the mask.

"What?" Mako's voice was deep and questioning, Jamison had explored his house at some point, and that was a creepy thought. Jamison sunk down into the couch cushions after hearing the tone of Mako's voice.

"I...I um..."

"When were you in my bathroom?"

Jamison cringed down more, guilt showing through in his body language. "I was here, uh...a few days ago...?" he sounded unsure of the date. "The...the day I woke up..." Jamison was nervous; felt like he had done something wrong.

"Woke up...?" Mako sat back down on the table.

"Yeah I-" Jamison stopped to think for a second, trying to figure out the best way to explain it. "My curse, it uh, meant I was sleepin' for a long time, and when I'm...bought by someone, I wake up."

"Right...okay." Mako was confused but it didn't really matter. He stood up again and held out his hand. "Come on, I'll take you to the bathroom."

Jamison hesitated to take his hand, but seeing him extending his hand to him made him trust him, and he eventually gave in and gripped Mako's hand. Mako pulled him up and wrapped and arm around his body so he could walk with him, once again taking note of how light Jamison was, and then headed to the bathroom.

Mako placed Jamison on the toilet-seat and looked down at him. The bathroom was more well-lit than the living room so he could see the man more clearly now. His clothes were ripped and patched in different places, dark pants with a rope around his left leg, and red plaid overalls that were torn and ripped hanging around him. His right leg was gone from the knee down, and blood stained the dark cloth of his pants even darker.

His eyes went to his arm where it was cut off. There was a dark scar across the curve of his elbow and stitches lined the scar. Mako didn't know what to make of his guest; he was like a human mixed with a scarecrow, at least during the night, according to what Jamison told him.

"Alright," Mako started after a moment; even he could tell that Jamison was getting antsy with being stared at. "Go ahead and clean yourself up. There's a cloth here for you to use."

Jamison had a skeptical look on his face under his mask but said nothing.

Mako sighed. "You're waiting for me to leave, aren't you?"

Jamison nodded. "Don't like people seein' my face."

"Oh? Why?" Mako asked and crossed his arms.

Jamison touched his cheek through the sack over his skin. "Look weird."

Mako chuckled and leaned down to be eye-level with Jamison. "People stare at me too," he said, referencing the scars that covered his face.

Jamison was able to clearly see Mako in the bright light of the bathroom, and he noticed that over his left eye was a few thick scars, his cheek was also scarred and reached down to his chin; like something had grabbed his face and tore his skin. Jamison was different from Mako, no doubt about it, but he felt connected to him in some weird way. Both looked odd to outsiders.

Mako saw Jamison shift on his seat.

"Promise ya won't like, freak out or nothin'?"

Mako simply nodded.

Jamison could do nothing but trust him, so he took his hand and slowly lifted his mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jamison's first human contact in like 80 years has been made. I wonder what'll happen.  
> There was...a lot of dialogue in this chapter. Oops.
> 
> \--
> 
> **Thanks for reading!**  
>  If you like this fic, please let me know with a comment! It's what keeps us writers going!
> 
> Follow me on [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/squeakster_), or say stuff/ask me things on [**CuriousCat**](https://curiouscat.me/squeakster_)!  
>  My other links are [**here**](https://listography.com/squeakster).  
> [ **Come join my 18+ only RoadRat Discord!**](https://discord.gg/esM77UT)  
> 


End file.
